“Each day he lugged
a hunk of something precious
over to his boredom
and once or twice a week
when he was granted
the tiny grace of distance
he perceived that he laboured
as his fathers did
on someone else’s pyramid.”
From Energy of Slaves by Leonard Cohen
All of us are toiling in the wrong vineyard. It is easy to see this and not so easy to withdraw from the process.
My dear friend T. assures me that I can only gain from not being online so much.
All I have to give you is my essence and that unfolds in due time. There is no pressure for essence to manifest; it is effortless. “My grace is sufficient.”
I have written thousands of thousands of words. Written in blood and tears. Sweat, eh, not so much, as Jon Stewart would say. Writing is easy for some of us. Living is the hard part.
I am in the process of dropping a veil between myself and the screen of my iMac. For there is a larger “I” waiting to be perceived, waiting to heal it as only I can do.
I am going along with his assurance that I will be able to drop more deeply down into who I am. After all, we are all under palliative care while on this planet. We are born to die physically. And spiritually, Christ assures us that we will find a higher dwelling place. Not in some remote heaven but right here now.
Wake up, people. There’s a new day comin’….